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Her dad barges in (despite the “private: knock first sign”) when Gigi is pretending to do her English homework, but really IM’ing friends about how much the workload at Chilton blows and that Headmaster Charleston is a pompous ass who should just retire already.
“So guess what?” He asks her.
Gigi takes out one of her earbuds, and gives him a look.
“It’s called knocking,” she tells him, hoping her voice conveys great suffering. Unfortunately, her father doesn’t seem to realize her plight.
“I’ll just be a minute, and then you can get back to your homework, which I can see you’re doing very diligently.” He gestures to her unopened copy of The Canterbury Tales, and then the three IM windows. At least he doesn’t tell her to close them.
“Rory’s in town,” he says then. “She said to call her and she’ll take you out to lunch tomorrow, her treat.”
“Oh.” Gigi nods, also typing in her chat windows (brb dad is being annoying). “Okay.”
Her dad gives her a surprised look.
“I’d think you’d be more excited about seeing your sister. It’s been months since you guys last hung out.”
“I am excited.” Gigi protests, though her claim falls flat.
It’s not that she doesn’t like Rory. She does. It’s just that…sometimes Rory doesn’t even seem like a sibling. Not even a friend. She feels like Rory sees her as more of an obligation, rather than someone she wants to hang out with. Oh I’m in town, got to have lunch with Gigi, even though she’s annoying and doesn’t like any of those long, boring books I like. She’s never directly mean to Gigi—it’s Rory, so she can never really be mean—but her smiles are almost too bright, her questions almost too eager. There’s always a few awkward pauses, and a great sense of relief when the check arrives. They never really linger.
She likes it better on the rare occasions that Lorelai shows up with Rory. At least Lorelai is hilarious. The last time they’d hung out, she had made up a soap opera between the salt and pepper shakers—they’d used to be madly in love, but then the salt shaker had started having an affair with the ketchup bottle, and it was all very dramatic. There had been musical numbers involved. Gigi also has very vague memories of living with Lorelai, before all of that had changed and suddenly it was just her and her dad again. Sometimes, she wishes that it had never changed. Her family is too complicated, and it’s not fair.
The point is, there will be no salt and pepper soap operas with Rory. People always go on about how alike Lorelai and Rory are, but Rory is far too busy and important to craft backstories for condiments. Rory lives in Brooklyn, and wears knee high boots and sleek camel hair coats and the perfect shade of dark red lipstick. Rory always has to take calls from her editor at the New York Times (“I’m so sorry Gigi, this will just be one second!”), or check her email because an intern sent her a piece to proof. Rory reads books Gigi hates for fun, doesn’t get why Gigi doesn’t care much for English, or hates the movie The Way We Were. Rory and her boyfriend Jess (who is also a writer, for some dumb magazine called The New Yorker, that Rory is always trying to get her to read) have a dog named Hubble, after the main character from The Way We Were.
Gigi both idolizes her (and the perfect dark red lipstick) and can’t stand her.
Gigi can’t bring herself to say to her dad that she thinks Rory is just doing this out of obligation though. He looks so hopeful, so pleased about this lunch—like he always does when Rory calls.
“I am excited,” she repeats, forcing herself to smile.
—
A day later, Gigi is standing outside of Chilton, waiting for Rory to pick her up. Her sister would pass this time by reading, but Gigi is listening to her iPod and texting her friend Isabel about how much she doesn’t want to go to this lunch.
At least you’re getting free food, her friend replies. Put it perspective, G.
A car horn honks, and Gigi looks up. Yes, that’s Rory’s car, complete with the Yale University window decal. Rory is smiling brightly and waving at her, and yes, she’s wearing the camel hair coat.
With a small sigh, Gigi throws her backpack over her shoulder, heads over to the car.
“Hey sister-sister!” Rory beams at her, and turns down the music. She’d been listening to some kind of whiny soft rock, the sort of music Gigi can’t stand. “It’s so good to see you! I think you’ve gotten even taller.”
“Good to see you too.” Gigi smiles and leans over to hug her. She doesn’t know what to say about the tall comment.
There’s an awkward pause. Gigi should entertain herself and keep a tally of how many there’s going to be this afternoon. Rory starts the car, and then gazes fondly at the landscape.
“Oh Chilton,” she says, with a touch of nostalgia. “Still looks the same. You’ll have to tell me all about your classes at lunch. Dad said that you’re reading Chaucer? I loved our medieval literature unit."
Unless Gigi is mistaken, Rory actually sighs wistfully, like some kind of nerd Disney princess.
"I hate Chaucer.” She snaps.
Thankfully, Rory turns the radio back on a few moments later.
"So this restaurant is really good,” Rory tells Gigi, all pep and good cheer. Gigi is just relieved that it had been a short drive to downtown Hartford. “Grandpa—well my grandpa—turned me on to it.”
It’s some little bistro, with tiny tables and candles in wine bottles and fresh-cut flowers. Gigi is sure it’s good, but honestly, she wishes her sister had picked McDonalds. Then they could leave faster.
However, she knows that the granddaughter of Emily Gilmore would never arrange a family lunch (an obligation lunch) at a fast food restaurant. That’s just tacky.
—
Of course, all the staff seem to know Rory too. The hostess beams, greets them with “it’s been awhile!” Their waitress asks Rory how her grandfather is when she brings them their menus.
"He’s doing alright. You know, keeping busy.”
Maybe Gigi’s imagining it, but Rory’s voice quivers a little at the question, even as she keeps smiling.
"What would you like to drink?” The waitress is asking now, after telling Rory to “please give Richard my best.”
“A Manhattan, extra cherries.” Rory replies. “And…do you want a Shirley Temple, Gigi?”
Gigi rolls her eyes. She used to love Shirley Temples, but stopped drinking them two years ago, when Mindy Carrington told her they were for babies.
“I drank those when I was like five Rory. Can I have a Diet Coke, please?”
She feels a little guilty when Rory blushes and apologizes.
" And extra cherries in the Coke,” Gigi instructs the waitress, as an afterthought.
As the waitress departs, Gigi decides she might as well make an effort. They’re at the sort of place where there’s going to be drinks and a salad course and lunch and dessert. Like it or not, she’s stuck here for at least an hour. Besides, at least her sister tries. She might be doing this out of obligation, but Gigi is getting a nice lunch.
“Soooo.” She says to Rory, playing with her fork slightly. “How are things?”
Rory looks surprised that Gigi is asking her questions, but pleasantly so.
“Things are good. Work is hectic, but busy. New York is still lovely. Nothing really exciting has happened, but I’m happy.”
“How’s Jess?” Gigi actually likes Rory’s boyfriend. He’s quiet, but funny. She hopes they never break up, that it won’t be like Lorelai and her dad’s other girlfriends, where you get used to someone being around and suddenly they just aren’t any longer. She’d be sad if Jess wasn’t around. They’ve been dating for around five years though (Gigi doesn’t know specifics, just that they got back together when Rory was covering some campaign), living together for two, so she doesn’t think she has to worry about it. You never know though. That’s what Gigi has come to realize. Nothing’s ever permanent.
“Jess is good too.” Rory nods. “Writing lots. He just finished his second novel, is working on editing it right now. It should be published sometime next year.”
The waitress comes back with their drinks then.
“Diet Coke with extra cherries,” she says, winking at Gigi. “Just like your big sister.”
“You know,” Rory says to Gigi, after the waitress takes their orders. “You’re welcome to visit Jess and I in Brooklyn whenever. If you want, I can talk to Dad about it. Maybe you can spend a few days with us during Christmas break.”
Gigi looks up from slurping her Coke, surprised. Rory has never really made an offer like this before. Gigi really can’t remember the last time she’s spent a holiday with Rory, aside from the few hours Rory comes to Hartford on Christmas Eve. Even then, time is split between them and her grandparents—and it always seems that Richard and Emily get the longer amount of time.
She thinks for a minute. New York City. Despite living only two hours away, she’s never spent much time in Manhattan. It’s always been a rush in, rush out thing—her dad has taken her there to see plays, or for fancy dinners, but she’s never gotten to really see the city. She views Manhattan almost as another planet, some close but far away glamorous land of glamorous people, all wearing coats like Rory’s. It would be fun to go there. Of course, Rory will probably try and drag her into boring museums and bookstores, but she could also see Fifth Avenue, traipse through Central Park, sip coffee at one of those cute little sidewalk cafes.
“I’d like that,” she says, slowly.
Rory beams, and it’s not her overly bright smile. It’s more the smile she has when she’s laughing at something her mom says, or is going on about a favorite book.
“Good.” She says, lifting her drink. “Let’s toast to it. To Christmas in New York.”
They clink glasses, and for a moment, Gigi is almost enjoying herself.
“Will your mom be there?” She asks suddenly. “In New York around Christmas, I mean.”
There’s a slight pause again.
“Maybe.” Rory takes a sip of her drink. “I could ask her if she wants to come down and go shopping with us, maybe. She loves any excuse to do that.”
“I know.” Gigi grins. She has a few vague memories of Lorelai taking her shopping, and it had always been fun. They’d walked the entire mall, multiple times, and Lorelai had bought her a brownie sundae and a cookie (when Gigi couldn’t make up her mind), because she’d said that life was too short to make such difficult choices.
“I’m sure Luke can manage a couple days by himself.” Rory says then, and Gigi is relieved that the waitress comes back with their salads. She spears a tomato with a little more force than necessary. After Lorelai had left her dad, she’d married Luke. They’d moved into a big house Emily and Richard bought them, and had two kids. Rory’s other half siblings. They’re six and four now. Rory mentions them sometimes, but less than she used to, when she’d finally caught on that Gigi doesn’t like to hear about them. It’s not that she hates them, she just dislikes that Rory doesn’t see them as a passing thought, that now they’re the ones Lorelai takes shopping and buys brownie sundaes for, that they never have to worry about her leaving.
For the rest of the meal, Rory rambles about New York, all the things they could do. Of course she goes on about The Strand, which is a four story bookstore (“it smells like heaven, and they have an amazing rare book collection upstairs, one of the best I’ve ever seen, and outside the store, they have bins and bins of books for only a dollar…”). Gigi thinks that sounds like the most boring thing ever, but at least her sister also talks about Central Park, and how they should see a show at Radio City Music Hall, and about one restaurant that serves frozen hot chocolate. Gigi’s just glad that she’s not going to be an afterthought this holiday.
Rory stops talking about New York long enough to ask Gigi if she wants to split the chocolate raspberry cheesecake, and Gigi finds herself saying yes. Rory also orders a cappuccino, and Gigi requests one for herself too.
“You drink coffee now?” Rory asks.
“Coffee is the only thing that gets me through my 8 am biology class.”
“I should tell you that coffee is evil and stunts your growth, but I’d be a huge hypocrite. Besides, I think I remember that biology class.”
“Mr. Bleeker?”
"Yes.Oh my god, he’s still around? He was ancient when I was there! Does he still talk in that wheezy monotone?”
“Of course he does.”
Rory laughs. “I think he’s going to be like Professor Binns.”
Many of her sister’s references fly over her head, but Gigi is pleased that she actually gets that one.
“Die in the staff lounge and come back as a ghost?” She giggles. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The waitress sets down their cheesecake them, promises that it has extra whipped cream.
"So I forgot to ask.” Gigi takes a spoonful of cheesecake. “Why were you in Hartford? For work?”
Rory pauses.
“No,” she says. “Visiting my grandparents.”
“Oh.” Gigi nods, wondering why Rory is being secretive all of a sudden. She sees her grandparents all the time.
“My grandpa had to go into the hospital for some tests,” Rory admits. She sounds younger, suddenly. Less like Rory Gilmore, Very Important and Elegant New York Times Columnist, and more far away. “He hasn’t been feeling very well lately, so…”
She looks down at her cappuccino, and then slowly takes a sip, blinking slightly.
"Oh,” Gigi says again, softly. She knows Richard fairly well, from when her dad and Lorelai had been married. Even now, if she runs into him, he’s always kind to her. Sure, he rambles about long boring books and always asks her where she wants to go to college, but he’s kind.
And she knows how alike he and Rory are, how much she loves him.
“I’m sure he’s going to be okay,” she says then, reaching out and putting a hand on her sister’s.
Rory nods.
"I know,” she says. “It’s just scary. That’s the thing about getting older. You realize more and more just how fleeting things can be, how nothing can ever be permanent, as much as you want it to be.”
Gigi bites her lip, wanting to say she’s already learned that lesson, long ago. She suddenly feels more connected to her sister than she has in awhile. It’s been a long time since she’s seen Rory be this vulnerable. Maybe, she thinks, that’s really her biggest issue with her sister. Rory always has to seem so together, like everything in her life is perfectly wrapped in a neat little package, complete with a blue satin bow. It’s unsettling sometimes.
She's glad though, that intentional or not, Rory is letting her in.
Rory takes another sip of her cappuccino.
“I’m being ridiculous.” She laughs. “He’s Richard Gilmore. A powerhouse in his own right. Everything will be fine.”
She starts rambling about New York again, as they finish their cheesecake. They even linger for a few moments after it’s gone, Rory telling a story about last summer, her and Jess’ dog getting loose in Central Park, and some very angry French tourists.
Rory drops her off at home.
“Well this was lovely,” she says to Gigi, parking in front of the house and leaning in to hug her. “You and the cheesecake.”
"It was good to see you,” Gigi says, actually meaning it. “Do you want to come in? Daddy should be home soon.”
“I would, but I’m having dinner with Grandma and Grandpa tonight. Mom and Luke are coming down too.”
“Oh.”
Probably the brats too Gigi thinks with a moment of bitterness. The other siblings, that Rory has been polite enough not to mention. The point is, it’s a private party, and she’s not invited.
“School.” Gigi reminds her. “Got to keep the grades up and all, so that I can go to a good university and not disgrace the Hayden name.”
She says the last part with a hint of sarcasm.
“Right.” Rory seems distracted now. “Well—“
She leans in and hugs Gigi again.
“Au Revoir. I’ll see you at Christmas? I’ll talk to Dad about it tomorrow at breakfast.”
“See you at Christmas,” Gigi echoes, opening the passenger’s side. There’s so many things she wants to say to Rory, but doesn’t. That her sister should keep her updated about Richard, that they should email more, that she should tell Lorelai (but not Luke and the brats) hello for her.
Instead, she climbs out of the car, and heads towards her house. As Rory’s car backs out of the driveway, Gigi turns. Rory lifts her hand and waves, and Gigi does too, until her sister’s car rounds the corner, out of sight.